The End of the Beginning, Part One
by Angel16
Summary: Virtual Season Five: Episode Seven


The End of the Beginning

Part One

By: Angel Koerkel

Genre: Episodic

Rating: PG

Summary: Episode Seven of my virtual season five

Following is a summary (all in italics) of the previous six episodes of my virtual season. Feel free to skip ahead to the new story if you want, but I personally found it hard to keep track of all that had happened and thought this might be helpful!

XXXX 

_**Previously on Star Trek: Enterprise:** _

"_Dammit, T'Pol! What's goin' on!?" Trip dragged a hand through his hair. "Why are you shutting me out?" His voice became a whisper, "Let me help you."_

"_I don't need help," she growled between clenched teeth. "Now please go." She stood aside to allow him access to the doorway._

_Trip walked slowly toward the hatch, but paused before he opened it. As he turned back to face her, she could see the unshed tears glisten brightly in his eyes. "Fine, you don't need my help," his voice was gravelly with emotion, "but did you ever think that maybe I need yours?" The door opened and he left her alone._

_XX_

_T'Pol looked frail as she entered Trip's quarters. She met his eyes and he could see the green rims around her almond shaped orbs that indicated she'd been crying as well. "Trip, may we speak?"_

_XX_

_The airlock hissed softly as the pressure equalized. When the seals opened and the door slid aside, it revealed a pudgy, pig-snouted Tellarite wearing a Starfleet jumpsuit carrying the rank of ensign. He looked up sharply at his new commander._

"_Captain Archer. Ensign Grik reporting for duty. Permission to come aboard?" His shoulders pulled back tightly at the closest approximation of attention that his physical shape would allow._

_XX_

"_I never felt very comfortable among my peers, and when our worlds began peace talks I saw an opportunity to meet new races and find a place where I might fit in a little better. My father was furious that I would not be serving on a Tellarite vessel, but I told him it was my decision," Grik said._

_A new kind of respect for the young officer grew in Reed's heart. "So, how is your family adjusting? Has your father come around?" _

_Darkness fell over Grik's face. His snout seemed to curl into itself as he answered, "My family disowned me when I left. I've sent them several letters, but they've never responded. My father's last words to me were that he had no son."_

_XX_

"_Captain?" she said. "We're receiving a signal. Audio only, it's a recorded message." _

"_Need help….attack….unknown….planet…defenseless….hurry."_

"_It's coming from a planet in the Ramy system."_

_Enterprise glided into a high orbit as she completed her scans. "Life signs?" the Captain asked._

_Looking up, T'Pol answered, "None, sir." Her tone was soft, almost regretful._

_XX_

_Archer began, "I just received word from Admiral Gardner that Earth's ambassador to the coalition conference, Nathan Samuels, has been kidnapped. Evidence of a Romulan phase weapon discharge was uncovered at the location they think he was taken from."_

_XX_

"This is Dr. Ziros of the Romulan Star Empire. My family and I are attempting to defect to safety. As a sign of good faith, I will send information regarding a weapon recently used to destroy a planet within your quadrant."

_XX_

_Phase blasts rocked the ship, throwing the bridge crew around like rag dolls. Commander T'Pol lay on the ground, a viscous green fluid pooling around her slim form. "Sickbay," Hoshi said to the air, "emergency teams to the bridge."_

_XX_

_Brilliant blue phased energy flashed out from the warbird and enveloped the tiny private ship containing Dr. Ziros and his family. It seemed to glow like a miniature sun for a moment, and then exploded just as powerfully as a supernova. Where Ziros' face had been on the warbird's viewscreen, now only an open starfield remained._

_XX_

"_Ma'am, we're receiving a message from the Romulans."_

"_This is General Murol. We apologize for any inconvenience caused by the fugitive Ziros. Rest assured, he has been dealt with in the traditional manner for enemies of the Empire. Have a good day."_

_XX_

_Deep in her healing trance, T'Pol stood across from the image of her mother, T'Les, in the white emptiness of her chosen meditation mind-scape._

"_We should not be afraid to share our love with someone who will understand our limitations and who will appreciate what we have to offer. There is nothing wrong with allowing our innermost selves to be seen by those we care about." T'Les looked over T'Pol's shoulder and into the distance. _

_XX_

"_This," Hoshi flung an arm fiercely toward the main view screen and pointed at the diagram of the Romulan weapon, "this was not built for defense. This was built to murder."_

_She collapsed back into her chair as if all of the bones had suddenly left her body. A sigh escaped her lips as she met Reed's gaze steadily but sadly. "They have to be stopped," she whispered._

_Malcolm looked down at the diminutive form, her shoulders slumped as her breath caught in tiny hiccups brought on by the crying, and suddenly realized that he wanted nothing more than to protect this woman. The Romulans, the weapon, even Starfleet itself could all go to hell so long as she was safe. Taking a deep breath of acceptance, he crouched down in front of her and placed his hands on her knees. "They will be, luv."_

_XX_

"_What are you saying, Mal? They weren't trying to destroy the planet?" Trip asked._

_Malcolm nodded. "That is exactly what we're saying. It looks like they meant to get rid of the people but keep the buildings and probably most of the surface intact."_

_XX_

"_Archer to Lieutenant Reed. I think we may have found your weapon. How'd you like a close up inspection?"_

_XX_

"_Captain," the engineer started, "you need me over there. Let me do this." He couldn't help shifting the medical tricorder Phlox had set up to monitor his recently questionable heart rate._

_Archer faced his long-time friend and current subordinate officer. "Commander Tucker, you are ordered to report to sickbay and remain there until either Phlox clears you for duty by his standards or until I return. Is that clear, Commander?" _

_XX_

_Archer fiddled absently with controls as he listened to Reed. When an alarm began to wail and lights flashed wildly, he looked up sheepishly, "Did I do that?"_

_Reed looked up from the monitor he'd been working over. "Yes, sir, it seems you did. And, according to what I can make out from this display, we've got less than five minutes before this place self destructs."_

_XX_

"_Approaching docking station one," Reed reported. "Emergency landing procedures activated." _

_Shuttlepod One crashed through the narrow opening and skipped off the deck plating, throwing sparks up like miniature fireworks. It slammed against the now inflated air-bags of the far wall and bounced backward toward the open doors once again, but caught itself on the sidewall before screeching to a halt. _

_XX_

_Phlox was startled to see Commander Tucker slumped over; his head rested along T'Pol's abdomen and his hand dropped lifelessly toward the floor._

_XX_

"_So, let me see if I understand this," Archer said a short time later as he paced the confines of Phlox's office. "There is nothing wrong with Trip. He is suffering the side effects of T'Pol's healing trance?"_

"_Their bio-rhythms are in sync with one another. The bond that Commander Tucker thought had disappeared when T'Pol entered her trance simply went into a deeper level of consciousness than he was capable of accessing while awake. I've got him on the cardio-pump to take the pressure off his own systems. That way, he can focus his mental energies on Commander T'Pol and they can both return to living, healthy bodies when they are ready."_

_XX_

_Trip was surrounded by the white room of T'Pol's meditations. _

_His feet carried him steadily forward. Soon, he saw an image of T'Les, standing alongside T'Pol, greet him with a reserved smile. When he was close enough he smiled broadly at them both. "Good afternoon, ladies."_

"_Trip?" T'Pol asked with worry evident in her tone. "How are you here?"_

XXXX

AND NOW, ON WITH THE SHOW:

A slight frown crossed Trip's face. For a fraction of a second he tried to recall how he'd come to be in the middle of T'Pol's mental escape land. As he turned his head, Trip remembered walking across the desert landscape but nothing before that. "I'm not sure," he puzzled. "I think I was in Sickbay, but I'm not sure how I got here." His features furrowed deeper as his engineering brain tried to work the problem.

T'Les and T'Pol shared a glance over the confused man's shoulder just before the image of T'Les faded from view. Hesitantly, T'Pol reached out and stroked Trip's cheek. His gaze met hers as she said softly, "It doesn't matter, Trip. I'm glad you're here."

XXXX

Murol paced the warbird's bridge, impatience rolling off him in waves, as they cruised the galaxy looking for trouble. He turned toward the pilot and started to open his mouth, no doubt to shout some inane command, but was interrupted by the Tactical Officer. "General, we have spotted a ship!"

XXXX

Captain Archer tossed and turned despite his exhaustion. His mind would not be settled enough for a sound sleep. It seemed as if his very soul knew that something big was coming, something he could only hope to survive.

XXXX

"It has been three days since I first started Commander Tucker on the cardio-pump to allow him to concentrate on helping Commander T'Pol heal. As of this morning, his vital signs are slowly rising and I believe they will approach acceptable norms by late this afternoon at their current rate of increase." Doctor Phlox smiled broadly as he looked over his two patients, lying side-by-side on matching biobeds. The peaceful demeanor of their faces was reflected in the shallow ticks of the monitoring equipment keeping watch over their heart rates and respirations.

As if on cue, there was a subtle shift to T'Pol's eyelids. It wasn't much, barely noticeable, yet it was the only movement Phlox had observed from her since she first arrived in Sickbay after the Romulan attack.

"Rest now, Commander. You'll know when it's time," the Denobulan physician whispered quietly to his patient before turning to begin the daily routine of feeding his various pets.

XXXX

If someone had asked him, Trip would not be able to tell how long he'd been in this place with T'Pol, but he knew that he didn't want to leave. It was peace made physical. He could feel the calm all around him, circling, permeating his skin, moving through the flesh, deep into his bones.

He took a deep breath and smelled a crispness, purity, simplicity like he had never known before. Opening his eyes he was greeted with the same sight he'd seen every time he'd bothered to look. There, before him, was T'Pol in a mirror image of his position. She sat folded gracefully into herself in a lotus position with her eyes closed gently and her hands resting upon her thighs. He watched, content to just be, as her chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths.

Around them the whiteness had been replaced by a lush garden filled with an array of colorful and exotic looking plants that should have made the air heavy with their diffuse perfumes, but it seemed the air would not allow itself to be burdened that way and the flowers obeyed, leaving the atmosphere clean and clear. Sighing deeply, Trip once again closed his eyes and let himself drift.

XXXX

The bridge was quiet in the morning, just the way Hoshi liked it. Which is why she tried to report at least half an hour early for duty on most days. Oh, she liked it fine when the full staff was on and people bustled about, making reports, performing their various tasks too, but there was something disarming about the early hours.

The alpha crew hadn't started on yet, but the gamma shift was winding down. Illumination still ran at a simulated night level. The sounds seemed muted, softer, but the vibration of the deck plates beneath her feet still told her exactly where she was and that the sleeping giant surrounding her would awaken and protect her if need be.

It felt good.

XXXX

Archer strode onto the bridge, his nose buried in a padd that he carried in his right hand, a cup of coffee growing cold in his other hand. As he made his way past the Communications Station toward the Ready Room, he looked up to greet Hoshi. Her soft smile always helped him feel like he was prepared to start the day.

Besides, on this particular morning he had a special reason to seek her out. "Ensign," he started with a grin. "Could you please come into the Ready Room?" he asked without pause as he continued on his way.

"Of course, Captain," she answered, pushing back from her station and following her Commanding Officer. After the door had closed behind her, she moved a little further in to stand directly in front of the desk he'd seated himself behind. "Sir?" she asked with a question in her tone.

"Listen, Hoshi, I've been thinking and I'd like you to tutor me." The normally strong voice of Captain Archer had been replaced by the barely whispered tones of Jonathan.

Hoshi found the Captain's insecurity charming although she didn't understand it. "I'm sorry, sir, but what would you like to learn from me?"

Archer cleared his throat a little and stood. "Vulcan for starters, then probably Tellarite, maybe Andorian, definitely Klingon."

She barely managed to stifle the giggles that threatened to burst out as she answered. "Oh, but why, sir? I mean, the universal translator matrix is coming along nicely. It shouldn't be too much longer and there'll be no need for someone like me on starships."

"That's where you're wrong, Ensign. People like you will always be needed." Archer wondered if Hoshi understood just how badly he wanted to emphasize that he would always want her, and not as a translator, but there was no way she could know. He'd been very careful to not let his feelings for her show. "Machines are imperfect," he continued, "not to mention unreliable. They break or get lost or taken away. No, I've decided that I don't want to count on a piece of circuitry to save my butt." He smiled at her, a boyish smile that had served him well with women in the past, while at the same time knowing he couldn't flirt out right.

For just a second, Hoshi thought she saw something in the Captain's eyes, something she didn't want to think too much about, but then it was gone and she felt better meeting his gaze. "Sure, Captain. I'd be happy to teach you."

XXXX

A grin that could only be described as evil slowly curled the edges of Murol's mouth. His eyes crinkled in a way that most seasoned soldiers would find scary as he turned toward the young officer that had spoken. "Really?" he drew out the question, savoring the promise of the word. "What kind of vessel?"

The Tactical Officer spoke with confidence as she answered, "It seems to be a Starfleet transport ship, sir."

"At last," Murol replied to no one in particular. The Voldem, Murol's warbird, had been given free reign by the Romulan Council to begin advancing the empire by sheer force nearly two weeks ago. Now, at last, it seemed they had found some easy prey. It was time to begin teaching this 'Starfleet' just who the real power was.

Coming to stand behind B'trix, the Voldem's Tactical Officer and one of the general's lovers, Murol growled out, "Bring all weapons online. Prepare to lower the cloaking shield on my command and fire."

He turned slowly back toward the viewscreen as his smile broadened to an even more sinister degree. "Fire," he said calmly.

XXXX

Snuggled close together in the tiny quarters granted to traveling civilians, Viat and Brekka of Tellar tried to sleep. As she listened to her husband's constant struggles to find a comfortable position, Brekka allowed her mind to wander. She was on her way to Earth! It was hard to believe, but Viat had insisted they make the journey after reading one of Grik's recent letters.

He was convinced that their son had been brainwashed. The boy spoke glowingly of his human friends onboard Enterprise and of the beauties on Earth that he hoped to be able to visit soon. Viat was beside himself with anger. How could his offspring think so favorably of these foreigners without having been coerced into it?

So, now they were on their way to Starfleet Headquarters to have a meeting with the head of the Officer's Exchange Program. Viat wanted Grik out of it, off of Enterprise, and back home where he belonged! Never mind that Brekka had finally made peace with their son's decision. He seemed happy, accepted, for the first time in her memory and that was what was important to a mother.

Regardless of her opinion however, they would be in San Francisco in just over three days. As she began to drift off to sleep in the cramped quarters of the transport vessel, Brekka wondered what one wore to visit Starfleet Headquarters.

XXXX

Hoshi sat at a small table in the Officer's Mess, a data padd in one hand and a cup of herbal tea in the other. As her eyes scanned down the lines of information feeding across the small screen, she sipped the hot beverage and savored its tangy taste. So lost was she in her work and the warm liquid swirling over her tongue that Malcolm Reed's approach went unnoticed until he finally tapped her on the shoulder. "Hoshi?" he questioned.

Startled, she glanced up quickly, nearly spilling her tea before setting it down. "Hey Malcolm. Don't sneak up on me like that!" she teased.

Pulling out a chair and sitting down, the Brit snorted a response. "Hmph. I tried calling your name three times. I'd almost begun to think you were ignoring me on purpose."

"Never," she smiled shyly as she reached across the table and brushed the back of his hand. Looking down, she picked her teacup up again and took a swallow to hide her slight blush.

Malcolm quickly changed the subject since he didn't know how to respond to that. "What are you working on that's so distracting?" he asked, bringing his own cup, filled with black coffee, to his lips.

"The Captain wants me to tutor him in the more common alien languages," she stated.

Looking into his cup, Malcolm felt an abrupt queasiness in his stomach at the same time as his grip on the mug tightened. It took a moment for his brain to process these physical manifestations of emotion and even longer to realize what feeling they represented. When he did understand, he dismissed it immediately. 'Jealous, old boy? Over what? He's the Captain, she's his linguist. Besides, it's not as if you'd have any say even if it weren't work related.'

"Really? Well, that's good I suppose," he managed to say in a normal tone of voice even as he decided he wanted to have a say in her off-duty activities. Grasping the decision tightly for courage, he once again changed the subject. "Listen, Hoshi, I was wondering…"

She looked up at him, her dark chocolate eyes melting his brain into mush just by meeting his gaze. A soft smile played at the edges of her mouth as his suddenly went dry. She put down the data padd and tea as she folded her hands neatly on the table as if in anticipation. "Yes, Malcolm?" she asked when his voice seemed to have stalled.

He cleared his throat, "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me this evening?"

"Well, sure. Why not? We've had dinner together plenty of times." She almost seemed disappointed as her glance fell back on the padd; but before she could pick it up, Malcolm had reached across the table and taken her hand gently in his own.

"No, what I mean is, would _you_ have dinner with _me_?" His thumb stroked the back of her hand and as she looked up again to meet his eyes she saw there a spark of something, like a smoldering fire that only needed to be encouraged to grow into a roaring inferno.

Now a deep blush moved over her cheeks and a delicate smile graced her entire face as she answered, "I thought you'd never ask."

XXXX

"Trip?" T'Pol's voice nudged his mind like a breeze over a field. It flowed over him, around him, through him without ever disturbing him. Again she called, "Trip," this time a bit more insistently.

"What is it now, woman?" he grumbled good-naturedly as his eyes began to peek open.

"It is time," she stated calmly.

His baby-blues came fully open and he looked around them. No longer were they seated in their garden, but once again they were standing in the white nothingness that she proclaimed to prefer.

He moved forward and brought his hands up to her upper arms. Holding gently to her, he asked, "Are you sure? We can stay as long as you need."

The love she saw in his eyes encouraged her. "We can not stay locked in our minds forever, Trip. I am healed physically. It is time to go home."

Trip's head cocked slightly to the side at the mention of physical health. "What about mentally? Emotionally? I know it was the head injury from the Romulan attack that sent you into this trance, but while we're here we could work on our broken hearts, too."

For the first time, Trip watched as her face tilted into an almost awkward smile. She brought one hand up to cradle his cheek. He leaned into it and closed his eyes to enjoy the feelings that washed over him. Acceptance, peace, love. "Thank you, Trip. Your support has healed me, in more ways than one. As with you, my hurt will never be completely gone but I believe that together, whether here or in the real world, we can survive anything."

He opened his eyes again and brought both hands up to cup her face. As he drew her mouth towards his he whispered, "I love you, T'Pol of Vulcan."

Just before their lips touched she answered, "And I love you, Charles Tucker."

XXXX

The Voldem dropped out of warp, decloaked, and fired on the unsuspecting ship within seconds. Never one to give up the advantage, Murol ordered a ceaseless barrage of disruptor fire. Fist raised in triumph, he watched as the tiny transport began to shatter under the relentless attack. Bulkheads buckled, atmosphere vented, and he imagined the silent screams that would be wrenched from the throats of the passengers as the vacuum of space stole their voices.

"Sir, we're receiving a hail from the transport ship," his Communications Officer announced.

"No doubt we are," Murol's grin widened. He waved a dismissive hand at the comm. Board. "Very well, it may be amusing. Put them on speakers."

Shrill static flooded the bridge for a quick moment and then it coalesced into a frantic tone. "Please, stop. There's been a mistake. We are not a military vessel. This is a transport ship and we are completely defenseless. Please, I say again, we are defenseless. We have innocent civilians on board."

Murol made a slashing motion across his neck and the pleas died on the air. "I was wrong; they are not the least bit entertaining." The general began to stalk toward the back of the bridge and the turbolift when, almost as an afterthought he said, "Fire at will until they are destroyed." Then the lift doors swallowed him up, leaving only the reverberations of the disruptors to echo through the bridge.

XXXX

Viat was thrown violently from the tiny bed he shared with his wife. Brekka banged her head against the wall at the same time. They scrambled together and sought safety in each other's arms. Huddled on the floor, bouncing against the bulkheads with each new hit on the outer skin of the vessel, Viat's thought was that of bitterness and resentment toward Starfleet. Why were there no starships defending them against what was obviously an unwarranted attack? Brekka cried silently that she had not answered Grik's letters. As her hot tears cut through the thick cloth of Viat's nightshirt and wet his chest she felt ashamed of her behavior toward her son, but only for a moment before she felt nothing at all.

XXXX

Trip Tucker sat up in his biobed, shoveling food into his mouth at a pace that was almost painful to watch. "I don't think I've ever felt this hungry before," he managed between bites.

"It's only natural, Commander. Your body has been under considerable stress the past few days and liquid supplements simply weren't adequate to meet its demands." Phlox fluttered back and forth between his patients, his broad smile broader than ever as he checked and rechecked their vital signs.

"Indeed, Commander, although I am not the least bit hungry." T'Pol sat up in her matching bed, her hands folded delicately across her lap and a look of all seriousness pasted across her features.

Just then Captain Archer strode into the room. "Too bad, T'Pol. I come bearing vegetable stew and half a loaf of Chef's finest wheat bread. He has given strict orders that you are to 'eat it all and then call down for more'." He placed said tray of food across the stoic Vulcan's lap before moving over to slap Trip's thigh in welcome.

"And since when did Chef begin giving orders on Enterprise?" T'Pol asked after swallowing a spoonful of stew. She broke off a hunk of bread and dipped it into the thick sauce before placing it on her tongue and chewing. A flash of sheer ecstasy crossed her face before she could stop it.

"Does it matter? Looks like he was right." Archer pulled up a chair and sat between his two best friends as they enjoyed their meals. Finally, all was right with his world.

XXXX

Hoshi Sato nervously ran her hands down the front of her clothes again. 'This is silly,' she thought. 'I've had dinner with Malcolm hundreds of times!' the rational part of her brain muttered.

'Ah, yes, but never alone in his quarters,' came the emotional part. Again she smoothed the pleats of her only off-duty dress. The skirt floated around her knees as the peachy-orange hue of the tropical design highlighted her eyes.

Just as she raised her hand to announce her presence, the hatch slid open and Malcolm smiled at her. He moved aside and gestured her in. "I hope I wasn't being too forward, inviting you to my quarters, Hoshi. I just thought it might be nicer than the mess hall." He lowered his head bashfully as she moved gracefully past him and into the privacy of his small cabin.

Soft classical music played in the background and two tall unlit candles graced the table's center. "Sorry the candles aren't lit, but I didn't think I could get permission for an open flame."

Hoshi looked into his eyes. "It's perfect," she said as he grinned.

XXXX

Ensign Saunders, the Beta shift Communications Officer, looked up from his console. A deep frown furrowed his face as he toggled a switch on the board. "Captain Archer?" he asked into the microphone.

Within seconds the response came back from somewhere on the ship. "Yes, Ensign," the echo of laughter filtered through the Captain's voice. The young officer could almost see him smiling.

'Too bad,' he thought as with a heavy sigh he continued, "Captain, I have an incoming message from Starfleet. It's Admiral Gardner, sir, and it's marked urgent."

All the joy instantly left Archer's tone. "I'm on my way, Ensign."

XXXX

It was just fifteen minutes later when all the senior staff was gathered once again in the conference room. Archer looked around the room, surveying the crew that had grown up so much in the past few years. His glance lingered especially on his Science Officer and Chief Engineer. They sat side by side, but not touching. "Commander Tucker, Commander T'Pol," he greeted. "Are you two supposed to be out of Sickbay?"

"It's just a meeting, Captain. Phlox said we could come," Trip answered in a slightly petulant tone, sounding slightly like a whiny three-year old.

A quick look to Phlox confirmed this for Archer. As the Denobulan nodded, T'Pol picked up the explanation, "We were temporarily released from Sickbay provided we return there immediately after the briefing."

"All right, then; we just have one more officer we need to wait for," Archer stated before flicking the communication switch on the wall nearest him. "Ensign Grik, please report to the conference room."

As the Captain turned back to his officers he noticed something else unusual. "Ensign Sato, are you wearing a dress?"

Blushing deeply, she responded, "Yes, sir. I didn't have time to change."

XXXX

It was a very nervous Tellarite indeed that entered the conference room a few moments later. Grik's eyes darted anxiously around at the gathered officers as his mind screamed at him to shrink in on himself, to not draw attention. Surely there must be some mistake. He'd never been called into a staff briefing before and so far as he could recall he'd not done anything that would require a public reprimand. 'Do they even perform those in Starfleet?' he wondered. Forcing himself to breathe steadily, he moved forward and took the last remaining seat, which happened to be just on the Captain's left hand side.

Now that the final officer was present, Archer began, "I'm sorry I've interrupted your evenings." Hoshi and Malcolm shared a shy glance before the Captain continued, "but unfortunately, there's been another Romulan attack." All heads shot up to stare in horror at the Captain's grim features. He nodded sadly as he continued, "this time it was an unarmed transport ship. A Vulcan ship arrived on the scene first after receiving a distress call and confirmed the Romulan disruptor phase signatures. There were no survivors."

Archer looked around the table at the faces of his crew, his friends. Hoshi had buried her face in her hands and small muffled cries could be heard from her. Phlox's eyes had closed as he tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Trip reached silently across the small space until his hand found T'Pol's. Together they clung tightly, waiting for the rest of the Captain's news. Reed lowered his gaze to the table and nodded in sad acceptance. Ensign Grik looked horrified at the latest turn of events.

Standing, Archer began to circle them slowly as he spoke. "We are currently on a heading to the transport's coordinates."

The Captain sighed heavily. Pausing in his seeming death-march, he placed a hand on Commander Tucker's shoulder. When his friend looked up into his eyes he continued, "I received word from Admiral Gardner himself that Starfleet has officially declared war on the Romulan Empire."

Explosive voices echoed around the tiny room. It seemed everyone had something to say and no one wanted to wait. "I can't believe this!" "It's about bloody well time!" "Oh my God," "Captain, there has to be another way." "It is logical at this juncture." It seemed the only silence came from Ensign Grik. His features had schooled themselves into that of a scolded child, uncertain if it was safe to speak despite the cacophony around him.

As the Captain noticed the Tellarite's lack of comment, he raised his hands to quiet the room. "Okay people. That's enough. Look, it's not for us to decide the right or wrong of it. The fact is we are at war. We should be at the 'Mayflower's' coordinates by 0800 so I suggest you get some rest because I intend to track the warp signature of the bastard that did this and blow them out of the heavens." His calm, straightforward tone was a direct counterpoint to the angry words but no one present doubted his sincerity.

Following another deep breath, Archer resumed his walk in silence until he reached his chair. After sitting down he met the eyes of each officer again. "I know it's been hard lately and it's about to get even harder. You are the best in Starfleet and I'm proud to serve with each and every one of you. Now, dismissed. Get some sleep because I expect to see all of you back at stations by 0700." As the weary crew dragged themselves from the room, Archer called out, "Ensign Grik, will you please remain?"

Startled, the young man nearly stumbled before righting himself again. "Of course, Captain, sir."

Archer indicated the chair nearest his, "Please, Ensign, sit down."

When the doors had closed behind the last of the retreating officers, the Captain turned solemn features on the clearly scared Tellarite. As he spoke again, Archer's tone became softer, almost parental. "Ensign," he directed the promising young officer directly, "I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, son, but your parents were on that ship."

Speechless, Grik sputtered wordlessly before finding a response. "That's not possible, sir. There's been a misunderstanding." Despite his previous nerves, the piggish-man felt quite confident that this was clearly a miscommunication.

Archer reached out and placed his hands on the rounded shoulders of his helm officer. "I'm sorry, Grik, but it's been confirmed by Starfleet. It seems they were on their way to a meeting in San Francisco…"

"NO!" Grik yanked his hands back and stood defiantly. "My parents hated – wait, I mean hate – Earth! They would not be on any transport ship going anywhere near there."

"Son, they had an appointment for the day after tomorrow with the head of the officer exchange program." Archer continued to speak softly to the boy, trying with his voice to calm him down. "There is documentation that they boarded the ship as it orbited Tellar."

Grik seemed to deflate, his body collapsed bonelessly back into the chair he'd recently vacated. Crying into his hands, he uttered, "No, no, no…" until only his muffled sobs could be heard.

XXXX

The three men gathered around a small outdoor café table made quite an interesting tableau. Even in San Francisco, people were not accustomed to seeing an Andorian, a Tellarite, and a Vulcan eating together out in the open.

Soval reached for his tea as he pushed away the plate emptied of salad. "A short time ago, the three of us vowed our support to Starfleet in their time of need. Vulcan stands behind that promise. We will offer our assistance and ships in this war against the Romulan Empire. Where do your governments stand?" He sipped at the fragrant concoction and peered pointedly at his fellow representatives.

"Hmph. You imply that we do not honor our word?" bellowed the Tellarite, his argumentative nature unable to be quelled. He slammed his meaty fists onto the tabletop causing the remaining drinks to slosh over their rims and onto the white cloth.

Calmly, Soval steepled his fingers upward as he addressed his colleague, "I imply no such thing. My superiors simply wish to know who our allies are in this conflict."

"Well, you can rely on the Andorians. We may not always agree with you green-bloods, but this is one time we are on the same side." Thoris, the Andorian representative, said calmly, glancing at his Tellarite counterpart.

The Tellarite, Vego, squeezed his piggish eyes shut tight in a gesture of agreement. "We will fight with you," he ground out past crooked, yellow teeth.

XXXX

Captain's Log: We have reached the last coordinates for the "Mayflower" and have begun the slow task of backtracking the Romulan warp signature. T'Pol assures me that we will have no trouble following their trail despite the degradation of the signal due to the passage of time.

On a personal note, I can't wait to get my hands on this bastard. Earth didn't need another war, not this soon, and now we've got one with these faceless marauders."

Archer slumped into his desk chair, a shot of whiskey held loosely in his right hand as he ran his finger around the rim. The amber liquid sparkled in the starlight peeking in through the porthole window and he could smell its fiery scent on the air. His fingers tightened slightly around the glass and he raised it high, letting its contents swirl gently, almost as if he were debating with himself whether or not to drink the alcohol within until at last he drew it to his lips and downed it in one swift motion.

Slamming the now empty shot glass on the desktop, the Captain stood and paced the small confines of his quarters. "Computer, continue recording," he called out as he toggled the control pad.

"I'm so damned tired. We're supposed to be explorers! When did we become soldiers? Why does it seem that everyone we meet wants to kill us? We entered this galaxy looking for knowledge, a sharing of ideas and ideals. Instead, we've found hatred, closed-mindedness, evil." He paused for a moment and took a deep breath as if some new thought had just occurred to him, a look of surprise at his sudden realization crossed his features before one of acceptance settled in. "When this war is done, I'm out. I can not continue to live my life for something that no longer exists, maybe it never did."

XXXX

Ship's night had settled several hours earlier as Trip and T'Pol sat opposite each other in her quarters, a yellow flame dancing between them. There was total silence, complete peace between the two and as she leaned forward to extinguish the candle, he moved as well to meet her halfway. As they both blew lightly across the fire, he smiled a crooked grin at her.

"Your technique has greatly improved," she commented dryly even as she moved around the candle's base to sit closer to him. "However, even with your mental shields in place, I can still feel that you are troubled." T'Pol had placed herself so close to him now that their knees touched and as she spoke, she reached out and took his calloused hand in her smooth one.

"No fooling you, is there sweetheart?" he asked. A quirked brow was her only response so he continued. "Yeah, I've been thinking lately about some pretty serious stuff, no denying that I suppose."

"Indeed. War is always serious, Trip, and we have seen our share of it." No one but he would have noticed the slight dip in tenor that belied her fear and weariness.

He nodded before replying, "That goes without saying, darling, but I've been thinking about some other stuff too…." He let the thought trail off, part of him hoping she'd let him drop it and the other part of him wishing she'd push the issue just a little harder to give him the courage to go on.

T'Pol turned at the waist to peer into his eyes for a moment before asking, "And what 'stuff' might that be?" Her grip on his hand tightened imperceptibly and a small tremor shook through her although she wasn't sure why.

Trip felt her body shake and could see doubt in her eyes. Smiling, he leaned in to kiss her. Her soft mouth gave under the delicate pressure of his lips and soon their tongues deepened the kiss as he reached his hand up into her hair. He grasped the back of her head and held her close to him as long as possible. When they finally had to break for breath, he rested his forehead against hers. Gasping softly, he said, "God, but I love you."

The emotion he packed into those few words caused her to pull back from him slightly and meet his gaze once more. As their eyes met, he continued, his voice stronger now though still heavy with feeling. "Lord knows I tried not to. I mean, what right-minded human man wants to fall in love with a Vulcan?"

She quirked an eyebrow at this, although no serious offense was taken. She knew her people's reputation among humans and could fully understand.

Trip continued unimpeded, "But the more I got to know you, the more I came to respect you and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you and now I know there's no going back."

"The bond…" she interrupted.

"That's not it," he denied, shaking his head. "I mean, yeah sure, it made things hard to deal with at first, but I was already head over heels in love with you long before we bonded, darling. There's no going back because no matter how long I live, no matter whom I meet or where I go or what I do, there will never be anyone that compares to you. If we separated tomorrow, severed the bond, and went our different ways, I'd never love another woman." He looked at her openly shocked expression, something he didn't get to enjoy very often as he cupped her face in both hands and whispered, "You're it for me T'Pol. You're the one."

"Trip, that is deeply moving," she managed to whisper back.

He chuckled deep in his chest and shook his head slightly. "Leave it to you, sweetheart, to take a declaration of undying love and make it sound so simple."

"I am sorry, Trip. I didn't mean to offend you," T'Pol began to backpedal, quickly looking for some way to reassure him that she appreciated his pronouncement without compromising her Vulcan sensibilities.

"Oh, love, I'm not offended. That's who you are, and I get that now. I thought I got it before, but since that healing trance, I have such a deeper understanding of you." He took her hands again and brought them to his lips. He kissed her knuckles before continuing. "What I'm trying to say, and apparently doing a piss-poor job of it, is that I love you, woman, no matter what else may happen in this messed up universe we live in and I want you to be my wife."

She was silent so long that Trip was beginning to get scared. He wouldn't look in her eyes, just stared at the backs of her hands still held close to his face. "Please, T'Pol, say something, darling." At last he looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

T'Pol's eyes were wet with unshed tears. Her mouth opened slightly but no sound came out until all at once she seemed to regain her senses. Pulling herself up to her straightest posture, she replied, "It would be my deepest honor to join our families in marriage." When Trip's response was a lopsided grin, she relaxed into his embrace. "That is Vulcan for yes, I will marry you."

His full belly laugh shook them both and they toppled over together onto the meditation pillows. As Trip brought his arms around her back and slid his hands under her shirt to caress the soft skin of her lower back he smirked, "I'm so glad you said yes, honey, cause now we get to celebrate."

With that their lips met again and soon all thoughts of anything except each other were distant memories.

XXXX

End Part One


End file.
